You can say that Jay- Z is a sell out. But that's just a label. And Jay's got more
important labels to worry about - like Lexus, Rolex and Cristal. This playa is living large,
but can he keep it real? Whatever that means these days...
Writer: Patrick Neate
Photographer: Eddie Otchere
THE invite says that this is the Roc- A- Fella Records album release party for Jay- Z and
Christion. Who are they kidding? Sure Christion have their debut album 'Ghetto Cyrano'
going into stores, sure they're dropping a set of well- groomed syrup soul, sure they're
nice looking in a US sitcom kind of way, but are the women pressing the stage to see them?
I don't think so. Jay- Z, the rapper who's been proclaimed the natural successor to Biggie
Small's hip hop throne (by no lesser authority than himself) is waiting in the wings to
showcase 'In My Lifetime Vol.1'. But Jay- Z, businessman, the co- founder of Roc- A- Fella records
and a man who's just signed a five million dollar deal with Def Jam, knows it makes sense.
It's all good exposure for his prot'g's.
Christion bow out to muted applause. One of the Roc- A- Fella cronies takes hold of the mic
to try and enthuse the crowd. "Let's hear it for Christion!" he calls. But to little effect.
They are waiting for the man himself but Jay is taking his time. He has hold of the mic but
he's still laughing and joking with friend, stage sidekick and Roc- A- Fella partner in crime,
Damon Dash. From the other side of the stage, you can barely make Jay out in the dull
lighting; just the flash of his teeth, the glittering diamond in his ear, the missile cigar
in his gob and the outline of a bottle in his spare hand. You can bet it's Cristal, the
champagne that has become Jay's trademark.
As the clamour dies down to murmuring expectation, one clear voice sails from the middle
of the crowd to the stage. "Jay!" it shouts. "Yo Jay! Keep it real nigga! Keep it real!"
Jay looks up and for the first time we hear his voice. "Who said that? Who said that shit?
Keep it real? What the fuck else can I do?"
"We have a reason why/To debate the hate/That's why we're born to die/Mandela/Cell dweller/Thatcher/You can tell her/Clear the way for the prophets of rage."
Public Enemy 'Prophets Of Rage' (1988)